Insights on Unlikely Lovers
by EAD13
Summary: An exercise to develop and contextualize the physical relationship between Quintus and Fjori for the story "Reactants". Mostly just fun for me, but you can join me on the ride if you'd like! Based on the NSFW Alphabet challenge, but never anything raunchy.


**A = Aftercare**

It didn't take long to learn that he needed to reserve a good half an hour for post-coital snuggles.

He never would have guessed she was a cuddler before they got intimate. She was, after all, a towering Nord woman with the blood of a dragon and the brash personality to match. Still, without fail, each time they'd finish a bout of love-making, regardless of who was dominating, she would press against his body until long after their pulses returned to normal and their breathing evened out. It didn't matter that she was taller than him, she would shift her position accordingly so her head fit tucked under his chin. He reached around her to hold her close, relishing the moment of true surrender despite the seemingly awkward angle. She didn't have to say it anymore; he knew from the way she refused to be separated from him that he had her devotion. Never would he betray it.

With a tender smile, he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head and squeezed her tightly. Her contented sigh and nuzzle against his hairy chest was her response to a declaration of love not vocalized. For her, this was worth just as much as the sex, if not more.

 **B = Body part**

He loves her smooth, pale skin that betrays her vocation as a mercenary, loves the way it tastes so refreshing after she bathes in the lavender-scented water he prepares when she comes home from a job. Sure, there are scars from the battles she's won, but he loves those too. They remind him that she has survived outrageous odds to return to him.

He also loves the strength in her arms, the strength she needs to hold her axe and shield as any Nord war maiden. He'd never admit it to anyone else, but the idea that she can be so powerful yet so gentle with her affections towards him makes him feel a bit faint. Also rather aroused…

Most of all, though, he loves her eyes that are always changing color. She's hypothesized that her hazel eyes change hue due to her dragonblood, the shade morphing to match her emotions. He loves them when they are a soulful blue, an intense grey, or a playful green. No matter what they look like, they captivate him and tell him so much more than she will with words. When they sparkle, as they so often do when looking at him, he can feel his heart constrict in his chest. He wants to keep that look on her face forever.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

She knows he would vehemently deny that there was any part of his physical appearance worth praising. Scrawny, receding hairline, shorter than her and hardly muscular, he doubted his value as an attractive lover since the beginning. She has told him time and time again that none of those things matter to her, but has ceased trying to convince him in words. Instead, she shows him each time they make love how much she wants him.

What she hasn't admitted to him yet is how attractive she finds his chest. For a man who was no burly Nord, he had a surprising amount of chest hair, curly, scratchy, and the same bright red as the hair on his head. She can distinctly remember the first time she caught a glimpse of it as he bent over the alchemy table to help her with something. She remembers how warm it made her feel. Her favorite spot to rest her head is against his chest, feeling the tickle of his hair against her cheek as she listens to his heartbeat. Perhaps it's a bit bony, but somehow she finds it manly as hell.

She wishes she could tell him, but she worries he'll deflect the compliment by saying how he wishes the hair would grow on his head instead of on his chest. Maybe in time he will come to accept this about himself, but until then she will hang onto that secret.

 **C = Clean**

Quintus had always been a very tidy person. He always washed up, trimmed up, straightened up. That made him stand out a bit living in a city of Nords, but that didn't bother him at all. He would of course let this slide in the interest of good sex, as she'd leave paths across his skin with her tongue, as he'd sweat from head to toe, as her moisture coated his lips. He could wipe himself off when they were certain they were finished.

The one thing that he remained reserved about was his own spend. Before Fjori, when he was going solo, he was always sure to lie on his back and angle it onto his stomach where it would be immediately toweled off and wiped with a damp rag. It NEVER touched the sheets. When making love with Fjori, however, this was not always avoidable. He learned it was simply easier to let it happen as it happened and have a fresh set of sheets ready for later. Though it didn't bother her so much, he would take the time to wipe her off as well when they were done, catching the excess as it trickled down her thighs. She shook her head and simply smiled. While not something she would do, his personality quirk didn't detract from the sex.

Finally, though, she made her personal opinion known. He was a very tidy person, she declared, but sex was not meant to be tidy. Just once, he should try and go for something a bit more debauched. Don't neatly finish inside of her, but this time withdraw and mark her.

The very thought seemed disrespectful and in poor taste, but Fjori insisted he try it once. Consider it a favor for a Nord lover. How could he say 'no' to her? So, they happily fell into their love-making, and just when it seemed he wouldn't last a second longer, he withdrew and pumped roughly.

While he'd timed it correctly, his aim was lacking in the throes of orgasm. He didn't just leave a neat string on her stomach, but ended up dirtying the area between her breasts, on her chin, and even left drops on her face. It didn't take long to realize his mistake and stumble for an apology while reaching for a rag.

This time, she grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "Look at me. Look at how I am yours. This is your seed covering my body, and no other man's." He paused, letting his eyes wander up and down her body. Though blushing furiously, a small, shy smile spread across his face.

"Ok, I may be starting to understand this a bit better."

 **D = Dirty Secret**

It shamed her when she finally admitted it to Quintus. She had believed there was something wrong with her, something twisted thanks to Benor's negative influence when she was younger, or perhaps the dragon blood in her veins. If she loved him the way she thought she did, how could she want to see him tied down, gagged, and submissive to her whims? One shouldn't take away the freedom of the person they love, and they most certainly shouldn't get aroused by it! That could only be unhealthy lust clawing its way to the forefront, something primitive that yearned to dominate.

When she confessed, she couldn't look up from the ground. How disgusted he would be! Quintus was proper, played by the books. Perhaps it would frighten him, the idea that she wanted to leave him helpless. What if it hurt his feelings to know she wanted him in a way where he COULDN'T do anything to pleasure her or SAY anything to make her feel good? Was that like saying his attempts to be a good lover were useless? Her face burned in shame as she hastily tried to apologize for thinking such thoughts.

To her surprise, she felt him reach out to tilt her chin up. Though he was likewise blushing furiously (he was still prudish and she adored that about him), he licked his lips nervously and told her it wasn't all that weird of a thing to want. Benor had taken control from her when he had manipulated her into having sex with him, and now she wanted some control back. If it would make her happy, if it would heal her somehow, he'd be willing to try. He trusted her completely.

Nervous of the unknown, but not afraid, not bracing himself against the very thought. She shook her head 'no', not tonight. The tears were forming, and she wanted to wait until her mind was clear. Instead, she threw her arms around him, repeating her gratitude over and over for his lack of judgement as hot droplets fell onto his shoulder. He just hushed her gently and rocked her until she calmed. They'd figure it out together.

 **E = Experience**

Quintus was well versed in preparing ingredients for experiments, in their proper storage, in maintaining and utilizing all the alchemical equipment. He could recite by rote the properties of several dozen plants, and he no longer needed to measure quantities when brewing potions. He'd had seven years of experience under Nurelion, and several more at the university in Cyrodiil before that.

What he didn't have any experience in was women.

At last, hormones and a genuine affection for Fjori left him unable to remain so deficient. It started with a kiss. Basic human instinct got him to a point, unsophisticated as it was, but after that, all he could do was follow Fjori's lead through the dance of intimacy. He mimicked the techniques of her tongue as they kissed, let his hands wander in the paths hers took down his own body. He knew his awe over what they were sharing amused her. He also knew she meant no offense by it.

Then things went further, and he was even more out of his depth. Having never even kissed a woman before, he certainly hadn't seen one naked, and even more certainly had never lain with one. By this point he was bursting with a desire to give her pleasure, matched only by a frustration that he had no clue how to. Perhaps he would combust. It was hard to hold back the feelings of inadequacy as she had to teach him how to touch her, like a parent guiding a small child to walk. Even still, he swallowed his pride and did his utmost to learn quickly. Soon, she took her hands off of his and gave him free reign. The delighted sounds that escaped her, caused by his ministrations and his alone, were a victory.

Encouraged by his initial successes, he was more than eager to be shown the proper rhythm of hips crashing together as bodies joined. She enjoyed that, too.

Still, there were plenty of things to learn, plenty of things to try, plenty of things to experience. Many were things she had never done either, with as limiting a relationship as she'd had before him. They could explore those things together, and he looked forward to all of it. In love-making as with alchemy, he would prove to be a model student.

 **F = Fantasy**

Between the two of them, Fjori was definitely the one with more imagination. Quintus studied how things worked. She memorized all the old skaald's tales, and was proud to be a member of the Bard's college in Solitude. To be fair, it probably could be explained by the fact that all of Quintus's life had been undeniably normal, routine even, while Fjori's was anything but.

When it came to love-making, practicality trumped imagination. That wasn't to say their interactions were uninspired, but rather were inspired by what actually was. They were always Quintus and Fjori in the bedroom, a man and woman very much in love. Who needed anything more?

One day, however, they were an Imperial hostage and a Nord mercenary who had never met. This was, naturally, Fjori's idea. Good-natured Quintus agreed to give it a try despite his doubts. They played their parts well; Quintus lay bound to the bed in his smallclothes looking particularly uncomfortable with his situation, while Fjori burst into the room in skin-tight leather armor she would never be caught dead wearing in public. The mercenary promised to free him, but offered a titillating proposition before doing so. According to the plan, he was supposed to agree. He couldn't.

Instead of saying yes to her offer of the Dibellan arts in exchange for capitalizing on his restrained condition, he froze up, then called her name instead. This was the agreed upon signal to break the scene, which she did immediately. That left him having to explain somehow that he would never agree to a tryst like this with a random woman, and certainly never as long as he had Fjori. He knew logically it shouldn't matter because this was a game, one played with his own beloved woman no less, but still he couldn't bring himself to counter his own nature, fictional as the scenario was.

She saw how dismayed Quintu was at the thought that he had ruined their game with his strange hang-ups before they'd even truly begun, saw the way he ducked his chin in guilt and averted his gaze. She removed her leather gloves, tossing them carelessly to the ground, and caressed his cheek.

"It doesn't matter, we don't have to pretend anything. You can be you, and I'll be me, and we'll still enjoy this very much."

 **G = Goofy**

Quintus wanted to be the best lover possible. To that end, he focused intently on his actions when they made love, his face either bearing a serious frown of concentration or contorted in pleasure. She deserved to have only his best.

Fjori was no different. What they were doing meant a lot to her, and was something almost sacred because it was being done in a way that made her feel valued. Comparisons against her past partner kept things serious, her appreciation genuine, and her attempts to repay him frequent.

It didn't happen for a few months, but at long last they looked like they were having fun.

He'd accidently grazed his nails along her naked sides while they made out, and the sound that escaped her was the strangest mixture of a gasp and a giggle. He halted and pulled back, baffled by what he'd heard.

"That tickled," she explained, the signs of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Instead of trying not to do it again, for whatever reason he felt compelled to repeat the action. "You mean this?" And he earned that sound once more, even louder. Encouraged, he began to use his other hand to assault both sides of her ribcage simultaneously. "Come on, Fjori, you're supposed to be a big tough warrior! Who'd take you seriously if they knew you were ticklish?" he teased, grinning at the care-free woman squirming below him.

"Quintus, stop!" she pleaded breathlessly, though this time it was not for the usual reasons. "I'm afraid I'm going to kick you in the groin!"

That was a very real and very dangerous threat, so he ceased his torment. Even still, she couldn't stop laughing as she hugged her torso. The image made him stare; had he ever seen his warrior so light-hearted before? It was so damn adorable!

She noticed his silence. Stilling herself, she cracked open an eye and saw the dopey, love-sick grin on his face. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you smile like this while we're both naked."

"Well, you neither!" he retorted defensively. "It is a rather attractive look on you."

"Yeah? Well I think it looks even better on you."

They stared each other down for a moment, doing their utmost to keep a straight face. It wasn't long before they burst into laughter and fell into each other's arms once more. "I like seeing you happy," she whispered in his ear, kissing him along his chin. The familiar shiver ran down his spine, reminding him of what they had been doing. "I want to see it more often."

"I'll try to remember that for the future," he quipped, this time planting a kiss at the corner of her mouth where the edge of the smile was. "But you have to promise me the same."

The smiles were erased before long as pleasure overtook them, but when it was all over, they found their way back, this time sated and content.

 **H = Hotspot**

She had no idea Quintus could be so evil.

He knew damn well what he did to her when he whispered in her ear, even though his words were mundane enough. What had it been, something like an observation about how tart the crostata was? Or was that the second time when he'd leaned over to share a private observation in the middle of that bustling tavern? There was no way he could claim ignorance when he'd seen the effects of his attentions to her ears firsthand, whether it be tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue or tugging at her earlobe. He had to see her shudder at the sensation of hot breath in that spot.

Two could play that game.

Seated next to him on the bench, she wound an arm around his waist. However, she let her hand wander upwards so her fingertips traced lazy circles on his back. She could feel him sit straight up with no small degree of triumph. It didn't matter that there was a layer of thick fabric between; her decisive fingertips teasing along his back always got him going, got him arching away. She wondered if he had stiffened in other places too…

They briefly shared a look. His was in disbelief, and hers was smug. Both knew they would not be staying for very much longer.

 **I = Intimacy**

Some people made love. Others just had sex. It was night and day to Fjori, and she knew without a doubt which she preferred.

It was having sex if you couldn't see your partner's face; if you weren't looking at them, you could just as easily substitute them for any other partner and get the same physical gratification. Being taken from behind was sex. So was a blow job where the top didn't look down and the bottom didn't look up, each becoming a nameless body.

It was also having sex if nobody said anything more than a few expressions of pleasure or barked orders to be obeyed. Benor had been the master of this, not once praising her or expressing gratitude, simply taking what he wished from her.

Keeping it to just sex worked for some people, was even preferred by some people, but it had never worked for her. What she needed was the intimacy that came with making love.

Benor had always been incapable of this, which was perhaps why she had such a strong craving for it with Quintus. No matter how they chose to do it, whether she was top or bottom, whether one was bound, regardless of position or technique, she looked him in the eyes and breathed her appreciation and adulation for her lover. His name was always on her lips, so long as her lips were not on his. There was no one else that could give her this, only Quintus. This was making love.

She knew without a doubt he felt similarly, because when she looked him in the eye, he was always looking back with that same longing gaze.

 **** **J = Journey**

A return from a long trip. She's had several missions to fulfill half-way across Skyrim and he's waited patiently. She always writes ahead so he knows she's coming, and everyone who enters the shop can tell because he's got even more nervous energy than usual. It used to be that they would have some formalities when she walked in the door, food, washing, conversation… The longer they have been together, though, the less bashful they've become. Now when she walks through that door she's practically on him. She can feel him reciprocate her desperation, and before long they both end up in their bedroom in a frantic, needy rendition of love-making, only interrupted by breathless declarations of how much they missed each other.

That particular journey to their bedroom is by far the longest, and certainly not her favorite. Some philosopher said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but she would much prefer to skip the long separation and sacrifice the fireworks it produces.

There are other, less drawn-out journeys to the same destination. Sometimes it's an agreed-upon plan where they discuss trying something new. Those paths can be tricky to navigate but reward the effort. Other times it is a teasing touch, a flirtatious glance, words with clever double entendre that starts a slow descent into pleasure. Even still, it is hard to remain patient.

Her favorite journey is the one where they don't have to travel at all. He wakes first. He always wakes first, but on these precious mornings he has all the time in the world and no work to do. He watches her sleep until he just can't keep his hands off. She opens her eyes when she can feel his lips ghosting over her skin, fingers teasing her. Before she knows what's happening she's melting into him and they begin the game again.

Perhaps it is immature of her to value the shortest, most direct path, but those are the times she treasures above all others.

 **K = Kink**

The funny thing was, this was supposed to be her kink, not his. He was doing this for her.

Then again, to be fair, he would have no idea of his own kinks given his lack of experience. Maybe he was predisposed to enjoy this and she simply revealed it to him. After all, he had a naturally submissive personality; that much was obvious to everyone who saw him work under Nurelion's strict command without any backtalk. Why would it be any different with a lover?

Regardless, it was certainly convenient that Fjori had a thing for employing bondage and he happened to like being on the receiving end. No, more than that, he enjoyed it. He got turned on by it. The realization brought pangs of insecurity with it, making him wonder about his own masculinity. They would call a man like him 'whipped', lacking the balls to take charge. The first time the couple had tried bondage, it resulted in him requesting to explore more dominant roles for himself in their endeavors to counter the feeling of weakness. Ultimately, they settled on vacillating back and forth so all needs could be met. It was nice every now and then to be reminded that he COULD, in fact, bring her satisfaction through his own actions.

There was still no denying that the alternative was equally pleasurable. He admitted honestly to her that he looked forward to these nights despite his requests for alternatives. The way this news made her light up only made it better.

So there he was, lying on his back with his wrists pinned over his head by her powerful grip. This wasn't necessary, given that she'd bound his wrists, but both enjoyed the position they found themselves in. The handkerchief shoved into his mouth kept him from articulating that, but she knew. She could feel the evidence of it.

Ah, she loved the sight of him like this, willingly given over to her, so pliant to her whims. She was never rough with him though; she may have been able to overpower him, but that strength was controlled, undeniable but never barbaric. What he offered her was a gift. With a tender smile that many would find mismatching with the scenario, she leaned down to kiss the pulse point on his neck. This drew a long, muffled moan from Quintus, and resulted in her own body shuddering from the sound.

By the Nine, they were the perfect match.

 **L = Location**

The 'where' of their intimate activities rarely varied. There was zero part of Quintus that enjoyed the concept of voyeurism, and zero part of Fjori that wanted to be seen in a vulnerable position. Four walls were mandatory, locked door whenever possible, and NEVER in a space that they did not own.

Despite these restrictions, they had options. Fjori had purchased a cozy house Whiterun and had built a manor in Hjalmarch after being named Thane of both. Whiterun was tricky because of Lucia and Sofia living there. Hjalmarch was tricky because the bedroom had no doors. If desired, they could visit the property she'd bought in Riften as a base of operations in that area. In this place they could at least occupy a private room in the basement and not worry about being disturbed by the housecarl who had been made to take the bed upstairs.

No matter how many properties she acquired from her exploits, however, her favorite place was still the upstairs of the White Phial. It was where they had first met and it was where their relationship had blossomed. They had made so many magical memories of first times on that bed. Of course, Quintus felt the most at home there, and it was a pleasant bonus that there was no housecarl stationed at that residence. With the addition of walls and a door to create an actual bedroom, personally funded by Fjori to afford them an additional layer of privacy, it was perfect. On a planned evening, they'd light candles all around the room and make love until the flames guttered out.

Fjori hadn't mentioned it to Quintus yet, but she'd decided long ago that when they were ready to begin having children, she wanted them to be conceived here, above the store that had brought them together.

 **M = Motivation**

Quintus and Fjori were responsible adults with duties that kept them apart for weeks at a time. What better motivation was there for love-making than being reunited after extended separation? It didn't help that each day she was gone added to the fear in the pit of his stomach that she had been killed, drawing the bowstring tauter until she walked in that door and released it with a snap. For her, it was the reward at the end of her mission, the prize dangling before her urging her on to complete her tasks and hurry home. Lydia knew better than to even bother accompanying her to the store at this point.

Of course, there were other things too. When Quintus was in a certain mood, he would tease her with his Imperial wit and sass, always with that mischievous smirk. It stirred the blood in her veins, the desire to put him in his place and show him who was the boss. Was that the dragonblood speaking? Regardless, she knew this was a side of himself that he reserved for her alone, and she realized quickly that he was doing this on purpose. As soon as convenient, she'd drag him upstairs and teach him a lesson.

Quintus' weakness was when Fjori was bathing. There was something about her stripping out of her layers of armor and clothing and being laid bare that got him excited. Though he was shy about it at first, he finally suggested he help with her bath. She wasn't sure why he wanted to initially, but any hesitations melted away as his hands lathered scented soap on her skin and gently washed away the grime. Then, his fingers raked through her hair, massaging her scalp. Finally, he started getting…thorough. She'd have to get out of the water before spilling half of it out of the tub.

There were of course many other motivations for sex, but these three scenarios could probably account for 75% of it. That's what he would say; he always did like numbers and analyzing. Fjori would just playfully shove him with that dangerous glint in her eye. He was just one more cheeky comment away...

 **N = NO**

While dining at the inn one evening, one of the serving girls came over to deliver their meal, and Quintus couldn't help but notice the poorly-concealed hickeys on her neck. No, it was even more than that; if he focused in the flickering light he could see skin had broken. Fjori noticed the way his eyes darted between her neck and his plate nervously, trying not to stare but clearly intrigued. Nothing was said about it for the duration of the meal.

Once they were tucked in for the night, however, it was time for the interrogation. "What was so interesting about that serving girl's love marks?" she pried, squinting suspiciously.

Much to her surprise, he didn't blush at all. He spoke instead with full confidence and distinct concern. "Do you think she let someone do that to her on purpose? Or was someone being too rough with her? I can't imagine a person would want someone biting them like that…"

Fjori quirked an eyebrow. "I think it's safe to assume it was agreed upon. She'd try to hide it if it wasn't." He looked surprised at this statement, as if it was the furthest possibility from his mind. She continued. "Lots of people like it a bit rough. Or maybe it's more of a Nord thing. A few bite marks to claim what's yours is nothing. Some people like being scratched when they tumble, even if it draws blood. Some even like getting spanked or flogged, get aroused by it."

Now Quintus just looked horrified. "People can DO that to somebody they care about?"

She shrugged. "If that is something their partner wants, then yes."

The poor young man swallowed. "It's not something…YOU want…is it?"

Fjori leaned against the counter, never breaking her gaze. "Not particularly. But if I did, would you do it?"

"No!" The answer was swift and resolute, accompanied by a furious shake of his head. "I could never hurt you, not even if you asked me. The thought of making you bleed or bruise or causing you pain even with something I say, I just…ugh!" He shook his head again. Suddenly, something else seemed to occur to him, a panicked expression taking over. "Is that bad that I wouldn't do it for you?"

Always so earnest. She had to laugh, but in a reassuring way as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Everybody's got something that they won't budge on when it comes to sex, that's just how it is. Me? I absolutely cannot stand the thought of you with another even though I know people have open relationships."

"I think we can agree on that one," he mumbled.

"Good. And it doesn't bother me at all to avoid asking you to do any of those things. You know, you actually try a lot for my sake. It's good to know that you'd be honest about what truly bothers you." She planted a loving kiss on his forehead. "I want you happy and comfortable, and that's the bottom line. That being said, do YOU want me to bite you, or..."

"No!"

 **O = Oral**

Benor had certainly lacked in the imagination department of sex, but one of the activities he HAD instructed Fjori in besides lying there and taking it was blow jobs. Young Fjori's initial reaction to this was disgust, not that she had much say in the matter once Benor made up his mind. She nearly vomited the first time he'd spilled down her throat, his powerful hands grasping her hair to hold her head in place, and the strong scent of that entire unwashed area of his body didn't help. Once she was out of Benor's clutches and far from Morthal, she figured she would never do such a thing again. Certainly no woman should ever subject themselves to this crude, disgusting sexual act willingly.

Years later, she was sitting next to Quintus in front of the fireplace, just enjoying the quiet time together, when her thoughts wandered. Somehow, the thought of trailing kisses down his body until she was THERE and taking him in her mouth popped into her head. Immediately she flushed, hoping he didn't notice the change in her demeanor. Why would she ever think that? She HATED blowjobs! No way could she ever want to humiliate herself by kneeling before him and…and…

She blurted the question, asking for permission. He was understandably confused, and equally perplexed by why she would want to do that to him. Something in the way he asked the same thing she had wondered made it very clear for her: everything about him was different. What if this could be different, too? He was certainly much cleaner, much gentler, and would express far more gratitude. Perhaps it was all curiosity after all. Whatever the case, she imagined she could draw out some thrilling sounds from him. And the expression she just knew would be on his face…

When he finished, slumped back against his chair panting and moaning her name like a disheveled mess, she soaked it all in. That was a luxury she hadn't been granted before, she realized. Quintus had given her warning, allowed her to brace herself. While it didn't taste any better than she remembered, at least she didn't choke. But what really mattered was this end result, Quintus absolutely wrecked and looking like her increasingly erotic fantasies. So worth it.

What she didn't know was that even though he appeared too dazed for coherent thought, a singular question was repeating in his mind: Do guys do this for girls too? I want to give her this too.

 **P = Pace**

Quintus complained once that it got dark so much earlier in Skyrim than in Cyrodiil. Only once. Fjori's counter was just too well played.

There were many ways to pass the dark hours besides just sleeping, she explained coyly. Imperials may like to hurry through many unnecessary tasks with their extra daylight, but Nords knew how to relax and enjoy themselves without having to spend a fortune on lamp oil.

Why, he should look at tonight for example. Instead of trying to finish crunching numbers by candlelight and getting a headache, instead of trying to finish organizing the latest shipment of ingredients when he could hardly distinguish their true colors in the dim light, he could be breaking open the imported Surilie Brothers wine she'd purchased for him. They could sip it, savor it, let it sink into their blood, and then perhaps he'd have to help her shed some clothing as she got too warm. A little of that cooling balm massaged into her skin, every inch he could get his hands on, that should help. At least, until she was burning in a completely different way. Then, he'd have to kiss her everywhere, and…well, the rest he could use his imagination for.

The point was, they had all night, no obligations to anyone while the sun was down, so he really shouldn't complain so much about it.

His response was to grin sheepishly, scratch his head, and set down his quill. Before long he was reaching for the bottle. He did like it nice and slow and intimate after all. There were still plenty of things he'd love to do to her, and if he had the time…

 **Q = Quickie**

Sex was something very special for Quintus, something personal and the ultimate sign of romantic love. His parents had always encouraged the worship of Mara over Dibella after all, and he was an obedient child. Clearly, he hadn't spent his youth collecting various dalliances to sate his emerging appetite like many of his peers on account of this ideology. If he was going to have sex, he was going to do it with someone that meant something. This insistence meant spending many years with just his own hand, but Quintus never was one to compromise his morals.

Now, of course, he had a woman to make love to. That didn't mean he was going to devalue the act by acting impulsively or excessively. Sure, there were days when he'd love to take her into the back storage room, ravage her mouth with unbridled kisses, and slide down his trousers just enough to get the job done. But actually, he didn't love that idea at all. He may ache for her, but he was no beast unable to control its urges. Such a thing would not be showing Fjori the affection she deserved; it would turn her into the target of his lust instead.

Fjori disagreed, though it took a long time and several fruitless instances of unresolved sexual tension for the conversation to come up. If he truly loved her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back when faced with the temptation. How good it would feel to be backed up against a wall and taken quickly and urgently, as if she were the very air in his lungs!

In the end, both were surprised their partner felt that way. Quintus agreed to try and be more spontaneous and go with his desires on the condition that they not be taking any unnecessary risks with voyeurism. Fjori would understand if and why he hesitated, and would continue to accept his decision if he declined.

They're still working on the balance of intimate and spontaneous, but so far wall sex has been attempted several times after locking all the doors with deadbolts and covering the windows. As long as he can still whisper his love in her ear as he moves with reckless abandon, he finds he's not the beast he fears he'll become.

 **R = Risk**

If anyone asked Fjori whether she and Quintus took risks in their intimate affairs, and if she would deign to answer such a question (she wouldn't), she'd say yes.

Then she'd probably have to clarify that her idea of risks and the average person's idea were drastically different. Nobody was getting suspended from the ceiling or choked or having knives pulled on them in their bedroom; they were just exposing themselves to the fullest.

The biggest risk she had taken by far was holding his hand for the first time and walking outside, letting everyone know they were lovers. For some stupid reason, walking out that door while clinging to him felt like taking the plunge off a steep cliff into the deep pools below. She hadn't been worthy to show off before, not even to be seen in her "lover's" presence; the shift in ideology with Quintus was radical and challenging. Now people would talk. If Quintus left her, she'd look like a fool.

But he never did. Several years had passed, and Quintus was still with her, only now as her husband. Talk about risks, he took a leap of faith when he decided he wanted to marry the Dragonborn, no matter what would come.

There were naturally more risks taken as they got more intimate, the sort of juicy details that the people asking the question would have been prying for. Just thinking about the first time she tried oral again after her horrible experiences, or the first time she let him top and relinquished control over her partner… Maybe the first time he allowed himself to be bound or the first time he took her against the wall while still half-dressed… The memories could still leave her breathless. But despite all the sexy but less-than-drastic risks they took, if she would deign to answer the question (and she wouldn't), she'd just smile and say "This entire relationship was a risk, and it paid off."

 **S = Stamina**

Quintus could get up quickly. She would often smirk at him and comment on how eager he was despite his polite nature. All gentlemanly manners aside, he was a young man with needs and a lover he very much adored. Make the right suggestions, touch him in just the right way, and he was ready to go.

Quintus could also recover quickly. Perhaps it was a divine reward for his patience all these years that he was able to climax multiple times during a session along with his woman. In fact, sometimes she got him off more times than she got herself off if she was the one in charge.

Quintus could not contain himself very well, and that was his greatest shame as a lover.

It was his understanding that men should be able to endure through any and all teasing until the woman had orgasmed once or twice, only reaching their end through rough, deliberate actions. Men finishing too soon looked weak-willed, like inexperienced boys who couldn't pleasure their lover. Damn it all, he WAS an inexperienced boy. With every new and overwhelming sensation she delivered, it was nearly impossible to hold back. Sometimes he swore if she said just the right thing in just the right way he'd lose it with little other provocation.

Fjori of course never complained about her teasing being interrupted by a premature orgasm. She could rely on him being ready to go for another round in no time, and if they were in the middle of something more carnal he always took care to finish her as soon as he was able. This was just a unique part of him as a lover, which she could accept and work with. The only problem was that she could tell how much it embarrassed him. She'd heard of something she could use to delay him. Perhaps for a birthday gift…

 **T = Toy**

Fjori would never outright purchase any items to spice up their sex life. It was impossible to remain anonymous and invisible to any vendor, and she much preferred keeping her affairs private. She was, however, resourceful and fairly skilled at crafting.

They didn't need much, but there were two items she carefully created for their use in the bedroom. One was a simple leather strap with a small buckle. Enchanted with "fortify stamina", well, its purpose was to do just that when she wanted to drag out a round of love-making without having to sacrifice the fun of teasing him. She didn't like to use it every time; that seemed to send the message that he wasn't good enough the way he was, and she certainly didn't want to do that. Though it had felt strange and a bit alarming the first time, he couldn't deny the benefits related to the area in question.

The other item was for her, but as with the strap, she had discussed it with him before going ahead and making it. It was something she could use while she was away for longer periods of time, a smooth, carved piece of wood slightly larger than he was. She swore that she would never use it if she had the real thing available, but much to her surprise, he requested to use it on her to make up for any physical deficits he possessed. In the end, they negotiated on once in a great while, just to spice things up. Again, she wanted him to understand that he was enough to please her.

When not in use, she kept those two items in a small lockbox in the bottom dresser drawer, buried under a few tunics so that NO children would accidentally stumble upon these toys and ask mortifying questions. If she was on the road, she simply took the whole lockbox with her despite the extra weight. The items worked well for them, and she had no regrets about using them, but the idea that someone could find their toys and completely misinterpret what they found worried her. They might assume she was unsatisfied with his size or stamina, or fantasize that she was sticking her carving inside HIM. If it were only about her and her own gratification, that would be one thing, but no one was more protective of Quintus and his reputation than she was. It would remain a secret shared only between the two of them.

 **U = Unfair**

Quintus was too much of a people-pleaser to tease. He wanted to give her his best, and if she had to beg for it, he wasn't doing his job. Instead of telling him otherwise, she decided it would be more effective to show him.

When it was her turn to tie him down again, she teased him with fingertips and lips and tongue until she could feel him brace himself. With one quick motion, she squeezed him around the base to keep him from finishing. The stifled groan of disappointment was so worth it. When he forced his eyes open, he could see her grinning down mischievously at him, even as her grip remained firm. Still holding him, she resumed her torment at half-speed. Once it seemed to overwhelm him, she took a break and let him calm down again, cooing sultry praises for her lover.

This could only be repeated a few times before he was pleading for relief from the pent-up pressure, his whole body visibly trembling. She had mercy on him. The resulting orgasm nearly caused him to pass out from sheer pleasure. "See what it can be like when you're patient?" she grinned as she brushed an escaped tear from his cheek. "You're a very direct sort of guy, but this has its uses too."

The next time when it was his turn to take the lead, the tables were turned. She swore his motives were less of adapting to her wishes and more of revenge. Damn it, the monster she'd created she'd brought upon herself! All she could do was curse her insistence that he build things up as he denied her touch where she most wanted it. "I'd love to give you what you want, but you seem to think it is fun to tease people during sex. I wonder if you will still agree after I am done with you?"

In the end, she did and she didn't. The waiting was torture. The effects were heavenly. Well, there was another idea to add to their repertoire.

 **V = Volume**

One of the reasons they preferred to make love in secluded, secured areas was that they would not have to worry about the noise they made.

Fjori in particular was vocal in the throes of her pleasure. Perhaps it was the notion that she was free to express herself with him, but some of her backwater upbringing came out with each colorful curse as the sensations spiked through her. It had very much startled Quintus the first time he had been able to elicit such sounds, with her having to reassure him between gasping breaths that she was not in pain, but rather felt incredible. In time, he came to realize that he found her cursing was endearing. Like everything about her, it was genuine and enthusiastic.

The other thing she screamed loudly and frequently was his name. Sweet Dibella, if she'd wail his name the way she did as he thrust into her anywhere outside the bedroom, he swore he'd harden in an instant. Her voice was raw, filled with desperation. That he could be the one she was desperate for was quite frankly awe-inspiring. He could never get enough of that sound, nor the sensation of her fingers digging into him that always accompanied it.

If Fjori was loud, Quintus played her counterpart. He had always been, after all, rather soft-spoken. The first time Fjori had gotten her hands on him, he had tried so hard to swallow any sound he made. What escaped his mouth embarrassed him, and he felt the whimpers and moans trapped in his chest would be unmanly. When she didn't get the sounds she wanted from him, she made her desire known, begged him to let go. That first gasp electrified her, and each successive groan only fanned the flames. Unlike Fjori, when he was that unraveled, he was not coherent enough to form words. That was okay; she knew what he was thinking.

He actually felt the most free to make noise when he was gagged. Knowing whatever sounds he made would be muffled, he allowed himself to cry out loudly. In fact, he was always certain to get carried away because he knew darn well that Fjori found his sounds incredibly arousing. She'd question him, fully expecting an answer even though he couldn't form words, and his muted response sent a visible shudder through her. He may or may not have actually screamed during these sessions…

When both were working towards mutual release, it became a sort of game to see who could get their partner to emote loudest. Suffice it to say the four walls and door were much appreciated.

 **W = Wild Card**

The people that mattered to them knew they were happy together and were happy for them. Regrettably, there were also many people that did not know them, and assumed by looks (she was so often in a full suit of armor while he looked like, well, a shopkeeper) that they didn't go together at all. The worst by far were the people that didn't know them personally, but knew OF them. They knew she was the Dragonborn, a fierce warrior and hero of Skyrim. They knew he was a fairly meek Imperial alchemist. Not only was it absurd for a Nord celebrity to marry an Imperial, but she would be a prize worthy of the nobility given her deeds. At the very least she should marry a great warrior like the original Fjori of legend.

What no one would ever admit to but nearly everyone believed was that it was impossible for Fjori's needs to be satisfied with him as a lover. Outside their close friends and family, people scratched their heads and wondered how long it would be before she broke the marriage, unable to endure his inadequacy and regretting her decision. Perhaps they would remain legally wed, but rumors of secret affairs as she traveled across the province would begin to surface.

To be certain, no one in Windhelm was doubting her fidelity; when Fjori had been out at the inn to pick up a bounty and a handsome, strapping young Nord had tried to suggest a rendezvous behind her husband's back, she had laid him out, black and blue and bloody, calling him every insult in the book before a captive audience. Needless to say, Fjori was not propositioned within the city again.

Fjori was not dumb, and she knew what people were whispering. It broke her heart for Quintus, because she knew that even though he spent such a large majority of his time in the shop, he heard those whispers too. He had already entered the relationship full of doubts about his appearance, lack of experience, and endowment. Sometimes she worried he was trying TOO hard to please in order to make up for it all.

Those stupid fools that gossiped about how they couldn't work clearly had no concept of what love was. Shortcomings were worked on together, lovers compromised and kept their partner's best interest in mind. How could she not be happy with Quintus as her husband, given how readily he participated in all of these things?

And though it was beside the point, she'd made a mental list of all the ways having an alchemist for a lover was far superior than they would think. He was studious, and learned quickly the things she enjoyed most; never did she have to remind him or reteach him. He had clever hands that could tease her until she nearly wept. He smelled so good, and the rich scents he planned for the room added a new texture to their bedroom activities. Besides being financially stable, him being an alchemist also meant never having to worry about buying stamina potions, contraceptive elixirs, or lube. Then there were those nifty little brews he'd whip up for an additional tingle, chill, or heat…

Mara be praised, she had everything she wanted right there where he was. If they couldn't see that, well, that wasn't going to keep them from being happy together.

 **X = X-Ray**

Fjori hadn't pulled any punches the first time he'd removed his smallclothes in front of her, namely because he'd apprehensively wondered out loud. Fjori's first partner had been a Nord, built thick and a bit longer. She wasn't going to pretend Quintus matched that. Why would he? He was an Imperial, a different race with different physiology. It was apparent in other things, no more so than when they stood face to face and he had to tilt his head to look up at her. Admittedly, she had zero idea how he stacked up against other Imperials, but that didn't matter. There was more to good sex than being filled.

At least, that was what she told herself at first, because what he meant to her was worth more than her gratification. If push came to shove she could just take care of herself as she always had. She'd heard the old saying that it just depended on how you used what you had, but figured that was just something people told themselves when they were not blessed.

He made a believer out of her in the end.

Yes, he was more slender, and not quite as long, but sweet holy Dibella he learned how to use it in a way that made her toes curl. That adorable, academically-inclined Imperial experimented until he learned all the best angles. Before long, she realized that she didn't have to pretend anything. Comparing her two experiences, she came to the conclusion that being stretched by someone with no finesse couldn't compare to the purposeful motions of something a bit less.

Lesson learned, and happily.

 **Y = Yearning**

When she was gone for long stretches of time and finally returned to Windhelm, people observing could get the idea that the pair were insatiable; the store was immediately closed, and remained so for the rest of the day. They coupled immediately and often in the day or two following, in any variety of ways. Who could blame them? Being separated for so long, urges were bound to build up. One or two rounds could not possibly remedy everything.

Once they were adequately sated, their responsible and practical natures returned and they carried on as normal. At that point the frequency dropped to once a week or so, depending on how long she was staying. There were plenty of other aspects of being a couple for them to enjoy: homecooked meals, family time with Sofie and Lucia, domestic chores, and evening walks hand-in-hand. These things filled different, but just as urgent needs: Fjori got a sense of normalcy she was sorely lacking since being revealed as the Dragonborn, and Quintus got the simple, genuine affection he had been missing out on for years since leaving home.

Then, she would come into a new mission, and have to plan another departure. It never got easier to break the news to him. Of course, he accepted it without argument; that was the reality of marrying the Dragonborn. Still, she could see the sad resignation in his eyes, and by the Nine she couldn't take that. Their time together ended then as it began, with a lot of love-making in a short amount of time. Though it surely didn't work like that, both seemed to feel that they could somehow stockpile the high of the moment. It had to get them through several more lonely weeks. The cycle would continue yet again, matching the steady ebb and flow of yearning in their hearts.

 **Z = ZZZ**

Fjori had always been a whirlwind, one that wore herself out after being provoked to extremes. With the exception of their slow, leisurely morning sex, she was out for the count as soon as they finished. She felt safe, satisfied, and easily drifted off as she pressed close to her lover, a smile still on her lips.

Quintus had always been a thinker. While not outwardly wild, his mind ran in a million directions at the speed of light. While they were in the moment, he was afforded pure sensation, utter bliss, but when his senses began to clear away the fog, his thoughts came back in full force. There was just so much about what they shared to appreciate and reflect upon that he couldn't possibly sleep despite his body's protests.

So, yet again, there he was gazing down at his sleeping woman tenderly. So calm, and he could bring her to that place as no other could. How had he gotten so lucky as to have this beautiful woman clinging to him, having just loved him with all her body and soul? Would it always be this magical? What if he lost her to her countless powerful foes?

A memory crystalized. He could hear her voice as it was the day she told him her feelings: _If I die, I'll at least die having had the chance to love you._ She was not willing to lose out on what she wanted most because of some fear of the future, and neither was he.

Squeezing her tighter, he laid his head on the pillow and slowly drifted off.

 **Bonus: Solo**

Being away from her husband sucked. Despite how fiercely she combatted it, human nature would always whisper those nasty comments in her brain about how he'd find someone more normal, more reliable. It was asking a lot of him to stay faithful with her traveling so often. Then again, he'd had plenty of chances to bed other women before he met her, but she had been his first... Also, he wasn't the type to be able to hide things like mistresses. His blush was like a honed reflex!

Thinking about it, she grinned and reached for her pack. Lydia was in the next room over; they had plenty of money now to justify renting out two separate rooms. All the better. Now that she was a married woman, she was finding herself much needier than she had been in years past. Certain the door was locked, she reached for her lockbox and slid down her trousers.

There was something else in there besides what she had crafted: a handkerchief. It was no ordinary one, however. She'd stolen it from him and doused it in his cologne. Holding it to her nose, she breathed in his scent, fresh lavender like the ingredients he worked with each day, and began to go to work. All she had to do was close her eyes and she could see him, each detail as clear as if he were actually there. She replayed the words she had burned into her memory, his words of love and adoration. Aedra take her, getting off was not going to be difficult.

Her only consolation as she descended into rapture was that he was probably doing the same back in Windhelm. After all, how could he not after reading the very descriptive, very raunchy letter she'd left him describing all the things she wanted to do to him when she got back? She'd of course left it in a sealed envelope and demanded he wait to open it until she was gone, but just imagining how he probably responded to reading the content sent another spark through her. They couldn't be together physically, but they had reminders until the day they were reunited. That would have to be enough.


End file.
